


Shadow Theater

by junko



Series: Scatter and Howl [52]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya continues to deal with the fall out from the Kuchiki clan war; Renji keeps up with Division business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow Theater

Renji knew it wasn’t really a good time to bring up Division business, but Aio had come in with lunch and there was a natural sort of break as she laid out the dishes.

“Uh, so, you denied vacation to three of our guys, Taicho. What gives?”

Byakuya glanced up. Aio had only just begun to bow her way out of the room, but Byakuya had already started pouring their tea. Setting the pot down deliberately, Byakuya arched an eyebrow. “My clan is at war, Renji.”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed,” Renji said with a little smile, as he lifted the covers to see what was on offer for lunch. It looked like Miki had been trading recipes with Ukitake’s staff because she had made them each a kind of faux bento box, complete with kitten faces on the rice balls. 

“Thing is,” Renji continued, trying out a bit of the shredded cabbage, which as the only ‘not cute’ thing on his plate. “These guys earned their time off doing Division work. It’s really not fair to expect them to be on call in case of a civilian army attack. ‘Cuz that’s what you’re holding them back for, right? You do know my shikai could mow down an entire battalion of advancing civilians with one swing right?”

Zabimaru hissed proudly at that.

Byakuya hid a smile with his tea bowl. “I see you’re taking your new role in my clan as ‘heavy’ quite seriously,” he teased.

“Well, I’m just saying that one guy with shikai on duty is all you’re going to need to defend your castle. I mean, that is, if you really even need anyone beyond yourself.” Renji nodded in Senbonzakura’s direction.

Byakuya inclined his head in acknowledgement of the praise, but said, “This whole thing started because one of our unseated was held hostage. I can hardly afford a repeat.”

Renji had to admit he hadn’t thought of that. “Right, so you’re keeping everyone on base to avoid the chance they might walk into a trap?” Renji nodded approvingly. “Alright. I won’t argue with that.”

An amused smile spread on Byakuya’s lips. “You’re technically not supposed to argue a captain’s decision at all.”

Renji frowned, even though it was true and he knew Byakuya was teasing him a little. He wanted to say something about how some captains, like Ukitake, obviously had give-and-take with their lieutenants, but then suddenly remembered Rukia was not only not the lieutenant, she wasn’t even seated. 

On top of that, Byakuya wasn’t even supposed to be captain right now. Renji was.

But, he wasn’t going to start a fight.

“Hey, you think Rukia’ll finally get a promotion?”

Byakuya had been inspecting the cat face on his riceball. “I…” he turned the ball over to show Renji. “What is this supposed to be?”

“Cute, I’d imagine,” Renji said with a shrug. It was kind of hard to think about eating anything that was staring up at a person with such baleful eyes. He picked one of them up and, closing his own eyes, popped it in his mouth. Oh! It was pretty good. There was pickled plum in the center. 

Renji opened his eyes just in time to see Byakuya screwing up his own courage to devour the cute kitty. His eyes widened in pleasant surprise, and he said, “Spicy tuna!”

“Plum,” Renji pointed to his own mouth, “But yeah, pretty good, huh?”

Byakuya shook his head at his food. “I think I would have an easier time eating them if they were black cats.”

“Yeah? You got something against--” then it occurred to Renji just who Byakuya was referring to, “Oh. Right. Yeah, I bet. Maybe I should throw one across the room and you could see which one of you is fastest.”

“Very funny, Renji,” Byakuya said with a sour expression, though he muttered, “It’d be the only way I might catch that damnable devil cat.”

That made Renji chuckle. Byakuya’s competitiveness with Lady Yoruichi always kind of took him by surprise--mostly because, in order to remember it, Renji had to imagine Byakuya as a teenager and that was kinda beyond him.

Renji watched as Byakuya popped another cat rice ball into his mouth. Byakuya still ate with a certain amount of vigor, but Renji thought that the desperation was finally leaving him. He seemed to be slowing down, normalizing--finally recovering from the starvation diet of prison.

Prison. 

Thinking about what it must have been like made Renji's stomach clench. Even after all this time, he desperately wanted to ask for details, but, well, it wasn’t like he didn’t know guys who’d done time. They didn’t tend to share a lot. 

Ikkaku, for instance. 

Renji was damn sure that the only reason Ikkaku knew Urahara was because he’d done a stint in the Maggot’s Nest, but it wasn’t like Renji ever heard that direct. He’d had to guess from how freaked out Ikkaku had been when he’d heard Renji was staying at the Shōten. 

Point was, if a guy like Ikkaku was too proud to talk about it, he’d never get a peep outta Byakuya, Mr. Basically Embodies Pride.

Renji munched on some more of the cabbage wishing he could say something about how happy he was that Byakuya was free of that miserable place, how sad and angry and protective it made him to think that some dickwad had attacked Byakuya when he was at his most vulnerable. But there was really no way to do that without insulting Byakuya’s manhood. So, instead, Renji leaned over the kotetsu and kissed him.

Tender and lingering, Renji tried his best to express all the things he really wanted to say, to make it ‘heartfelt.’

When Renji pulled away, Byakuya’s expression was open, unmasked. He looked pleasantly surprised and a little grateful, perhaps. “What was that for?”

Shrugging, Renji went back to his lunch like it was no big deal. “I dunno. Do I need a reason?”

Byakuya graced him with a slight smile before letting his features smooth back into their usual impenetrable blankness. “I suppose not.”

The bento box was empty. Renji sat back a little, cradling his tea bowl under his nose. The steam warmed his face. Underneath the heated table, their legs were completely entwined. He could feel Byakuya’s stocking foot resting against his naked thigh, having somehow found its way up the entire length of Renji’s hakama leg. 

It was nice. Renji could sit like this all day.

“How’s Shinobu? I haven’t seen him in a while,” Renji said, leaving off the part where he could have seen the little heir last night if Byakuya hadn’t so rudely blocked him from dinner.

“Ah, well, he’s… “ Byakuya let out an exasperated breath. He frowned slightly into the depths of his empty tea bowl before setting it down. “He dislikes this clan war as much as you, if not more.”

‘Dislikes’? Renji figured maybe ‘fucking despises’ was probably more accurate. “Yeah, I bet. He got quite the baptism by fire. Uh… literally.”

“Yes,” Byakuya agreed. “Speaking of that, I should prepare.”

Renji scratched his head. It was early afternoon. Byakuya wouldn’t be preparing to meet with Yakimura already, would he? 

Untangling his legs, Byakuya stood up. Renji quickly scrambled to stand as well, nearly knocking the table over. He had to stop to right a few of the dishes before straightening up.

“Captain Kyōraku has decided to hear my apology in person,” Byakuya said.

Huh? What did that mean exactly. “He wasn’t satisfied with your note?”

Byakuya’s lips went thin, and then he turned to walk to the door. “Apparently not.”

Dang.

#

After Renji left, Byakuya sought out the young heir, Shinobu.

He walked around the estate, the grounds, and, not finding him, finally had to stop a passing servant. “Do you know the whereabouts of Shinobu Kuchiki?”

The servant carried a basket of laundry that seemed twice the size of her skinny frame. Nervously, she nodded her head. “His young lordship likes to hide in the walls.”

In the walls? Ah, the launderer must mean the old servants’ passageways. “Does he have a favorite?”

She nodded vigorously now, excited to know the answer. “We mostly see him coming in and out near the cherry blossom room.”

Ah, of course. There was a full hidden room there. Byakuya knew it well. He’d spent many hours in that dark little airless space at his grandfather’s insistence, listening in to the business of being a clan head. Ironically, Byakuya was considering asking Shinobu to sit in that room during both negotiations--the first with Captain Kyōraku and then with Yakimura. “I know just where that is, thank you.”

Byakuya decided not to directly invade Shinobu’s hiding spot. Instead, he made his way to the cherry blossom room from the front entrance. Sliding open the deep interior doors, Byakuya peered inside the room. It smelled faintly of polish, having recently been cleaned for the upcoming meetings. No lanterns had been lit yet, however, and shadows stretched like the mouth of some great cave. 

Though it had been over a hundred years, Byakuya still wasn’t used to seeing cherry blossoms painted on the fusuma panels. This had long been his grandfather’s room and so had been decorated in o-washi, the great eagle, and its hunting grounds.

Now, delicate cherry blossoms drifted downward, as though caught in the moment between life and death, in a perpetual Hanami.

Stepping over the threshold, Byakuya called out, “Shinobu? Are you here? I wish to speak with you.”

Even though Byakuya knew that the passageway doors were oiled for silent movement, he was still startled when, seconds later, Shinobu seemed to materialize out of the darkened room. In contrast to his somewhat sinister entrance, he looked decidedly young and disheveled. The kenseikan must have finished its transformation, because he’d removed it. His curly mop looked slept on and the clothes he wore--a simple yukata--rumpled. “Cousin?”

“Would you walk with me?” Having just been through the grounds, Byakuya knew that several of the gardens had begun their spring show. “I feel we have some things to discuss.” Byakuya could read the disappointment and trepidation in the boy’s eyes, and so he added, “It’s nothing to worry about. You don’t even need to get dressed. I just wish to strategize about the meeting with your cousin Kyōraku.”

“Yes, my lord,” Shinobu said dutifully.

And Byakuya’s heart went out to him. After all, Byakuya knew very well what it was like to have the mantle of responsibility thrust on you at a tender young age. 

They walked in silence to the west gardens. The red camellia bushes, which had been blooming since before Byakuya’s birthday, with their carefully manicured shapes were a strong contrast to the wildflower riot of the tall stalks of yellow rapeseed. Though the air was still cool and crisp, the sunshine had brought out legions of busy bees. 

The plum trees, too, had begun to bud out.

Was it really already that time?

Turning away from thoughts of Hisana’s death, Byakuya led Shinobu over to a centerpiece of large boulders. Warmed from the sun, Byakuya perched himself on the stone. Shinobu seemed surprised by Byakuya’s informality, but when Byakuya patted a nearby rock, Shinobu happily clambered up onto it. 

“Do you want to be there for the apology to your cousin?” Byakuya asked kindly, “Or would you prefer he not know of your involvement?”

“Uh, the second one,” Shinobu said without hesitation.

Byakuya could almost hear his grandfather’s scolding from beyond the grave. ‘A clan head must always face his mistakes!’ But, unlike his grandfather, Byakuya didn’t ask questions for which there were wrong answers, answers that were traps meant to catch weaknesses and become object lessons.

“I would still like you to observe from the hidden room,” Byakuya said. Shinobu looked like he might deny knowing about the room he spent so much time holed up in, so Byakuya quickly added, “There’s much I neglected to teach you about being a clan head. You can learn from observation.”

Shinobu nodded gravely, “Yes, my lord.”

“And, tonight, as well,” Byakuya continued. “You’ll watch as I negotiate with Yakimura.” 

Another serious nod from Shinobu.

“And after that, I was thinking of sending you to court for the Hanami.”

Shinobu looked both excited and nervous. “But... I know nothing about the politics of tea ceremonies and all that.”

Byakuya nodded. “Nor do I, honestly. However, Hirako’s family will be there. You can learn from her father. As a man who bears the Kuchiki surname, he wields a lot of power, despite being distant from me by blood. Between the two of you, you should be able to open any door at court. And our aunt Masama is, despite her flaws, very, very skilled in this particular game. You should listen to her… when your heart and your instincts agree.”

Shinobu picked at lichen on the boulder for a moment before admitting, “Hirako’s dad scares me.”

“He’s... “ Byakuya hunted for the right word, but came up wanting. The truth was, Byakuya suspected Hirako’s father might be involved in all of this clan war nonsense, but the chances of him acting in a way that threatened his masquerade as dutiful Kuchiki cousin when there were so many people who could bear witness was slim, so he settled on, “... complicated. I don’t like that he would have denied Hirako her zanpakutō. To my reckoning, that’s a crime against nature. And, he had such foolish reasoning--as though being in the Court Guard would make her less desirable to any suitors? Preposterous!” Shaking his head, Byakuya took in a breath. “But, he knows court and you can learn about its functions from him.” Then, Byakuya had a flash of insight, and so he added, “I’ll send along our Tenth Seat, Ando. He can act as bodyguard so you’ll have nothing to fear from any quarter.”

Shinobu nodded, but he still looked a little glum. 

“Hirako will be there. Court happens during the Academy spring break. You two will have a chance to get to know each other.”

A blush crept across Shinobu’s cheek and he glanced away, his eyes following the way a patch of tulips danced in the breeze. “I… did you know I left a girl behind?”

“No,” Byakuya said. “Are you… unhappy with the betrothal?”

Shinobu chewed his lip and ran a hand through his curls. “Thing is, I don’t… know. I haven’t written to her like I promised and… I’m starting to forget what she looks like.”

“Well then you must arrange a visit home before you head to court,” Byakuya said decisively. “If nothing else, you should tell this young lady about your betrothal in person. That’s not the sort of thing a young woman wants to discover from her friends or through the rumor mill.”

“I suppose,” Shinobu agreed cautiously. “But.. what if I can’t decide?”

Byakuya had no answer to that beyond a little sigh and, “Well, you must decide eventually. Even if the answer is that you will marry neither of them.” 

How ironic would it be if the next Kuchiki heir had as much trouble with marriage as the one before? No one had liked Byakuya’s decisions either. Not one of them. There had been strife when he broke the pre-arrangement, acrimony when he’d insisted on Hisana, and nothing but constant harassment to remarry almost from the day after he’d been widowed.

They sat in the sun a while longer, considering their lives, until Byakuya finally said. “It’s time. I must dress and prepare for Captain Kyōraku.”

#

Renji checked in at the lieutenant’s office to relieve Nanako of duty for the day. After zipping through the scant amount of paperwork on his desk--it was amazing how much more efficient it was to be both captain and lieutenant--Renji decided to break it to the guys not getting their requested vacation. 

After checking the duty roster, he headed out. 

The first person on his list was their Fifteenth Seat, a woman named Kaiyo. This one was going to be hard because not only had Renji always sort of liked her, but she recently impressed him when all that shit came out about the captain’s arrest for fraternization and she launched herself at Kinjo and punched the shit out him, thinking he’d grassed them up. Renji really wanted to give Kaiyo a vacation, since it seemed to him that she’d earned it.

Duty roster said she was on gate guard, so he made his way to the stairs that would take him to the Division’s wall. Many divisions had walls made only of wood. The Eleventh had haphazard ones, at that. There were places where the “wall” there was nothing more than a bunch of pikes strung together between buildings--existing mostly just to keep the drunken riff-raff out, or, sometimes, in. 

Here, at the Sixth there were sections that had clearly been built at different times. The main gate was the ‘newest’ and constructed mostly in wood, though seamlessly joined with the more ancient stone sections. It was far taller than the old stone and so even once up on the wall, Renji continued to climb stairs until he reached the tower door. 

The door to the guardhouse stood open, but Renji tapped on the doorframe politely.

Kaiyo leaned on the window ledge, staring down at the busy Seireitei street below with a wistful expression on her face. She was tall, but tightly muscled, like a boxer. Her black hair was a carefully coifed collection of braids and knots--the kind of style that always made Renji wonder just how long it would be undone. At his knock, she jumped to attention. Seeing who it was, she sketched Renji a smart salute.

“At ease,” he said. Renji didn’t know Kaiyo very well. What he mostly remembered about her was that she had a reputation as a brawler. Even now, there was a hastily applied plaster on the bridge of her nose and he could see another wrapped around two fingers of her left hand. It was only memorable because she was in the Sixth, not the Eleventh, and her zanpakutō was Kidō type--and defensive at that. Her shikai released with the simple phrase, “Protect,” and created a kind of ring of shields, a floating manipulable armor. 

Kaiyo was that type, from what Renji had heard: protective, a protector.

Like so many people in Renji’s life, including himself.

Renji really didn’t want to tell Kaiyo that her vacation had been denied, especially since the call should have been his, not Byakuya’s. But… once the captain weighed in, even if he was technically on probation, Renji really couldn’t countermand it.

“I’ve got to deny your vacation request,” Renji said without preamble. “Kuchiki has asked for a moratorium on leave while his clan is at war.”

Renji watched her face for a reaction. Kaiyo frowned, but didn’t scowl. After chewing her lip thoughtfully for a moment, she shrugged. “Eh, figures.”

Silently, Renji let out a breath of relief. He hadn’t been expecting an argument, per se, but some folks liked to try to negotiate or lay out some long explanation in hopes of hitting all the right notes of a sob story to make Renji reconsider. Renji learned really quickly not to give into that stuff. For one, Byakuya would never stand for it, and second, word would spread like lightning that the lieutenant was a softy to be taken advantage of. He’d been working hard to spread the reputation through the ranks that even though he wouldn’t budge, he could still be sympathetic in his own way, so he said, “I’m hoping the Kuchiki are going to settle up quickly. Re-apply in a week or so, and I’ll make sure you get to the top of the list.”

Kaiyo didn’t brighten as much as Renji thought she would. “Yeah, I appreciate that, but the festival will happen again next year. It’s no big deal.”

Oh. She was missing out on a once-a-year thing. Damn. Well, at least she seemed alright with missing this year. “Sorry,” he offered.

“Eh,” she lifted her shoulder again. “It’s an excuse not to see my parents. I’m cool with that.” 

She gave Renji a look that seemed to expect understanding, but Renji could only return a blank, confused stare. The only family he’d ever known was Rukia and the gang. Maybe he’d been assigned parents, but, if he had, he had no memory of them. He tended to forget it wasn’t like this for everyone out in the Rukongai. The majority of souls were like Kaiyo, they had people they thought of as actual parents. People they kept in touch with.

“You don’t get along with your family?” Renji asked, because that was the most baffling part of all. Some people hung on to this notion of family even when the people they’d been assigned to were dicks. Cut and run was Renji’s philosophy. Though look at him. He still hung on to Seichi, despite the trouble--and would do the same to any other member of the Abarai gang if they showed up at the Division’s door.

Kaiyo made another noncommittal gesture. “Ah, they’re alright. We get along pretty well most of the time, but they don’t like my new girlfriend.”

Renji chuckled in appreciation of Kaiyo’s situation. “I know what that’s like.”

It took a second for Kaiyo to make the connection, but when she did she brightened. “Yeah, I bet.” She seemed like she wanted to add more, but wasn’t willing to besmirch the captain’s family.

So Renji just nodded knowingly, and they stood around awkwardly for a few minutes while Renji tried to decide how to make a graceful exit. Just then, they heard the other tower guard cry out: “Who goes there?”

Ironically, that particular phrase was actually a signal for when the person approaching the gate was known to be from another division. Both Kaiyo and Renji shouldered into the window to see who it was that approached the gate.

With that brilliant pink kimono shining in the sun, it could only be one person. So, before the gate guard could say anything else, Renji called down: “Captain Kyōraku! You’re expected at the estate, sir. Welcome to the Sixth.”

Tipping his straw hat back to peer up at them, Kyōraku let out one of his belly laughs. “Well, well, Captain Abarai, you surprise me. I wouldn’t have thought to find the Division’s top officer staffing the gate.”

“Uh, well, you lucked out, I guess,” Renji said, feeling a blush creeping up the collar of his uniform. Having no idea what else he should say, he added, “If you’ll hang on, sir, I’d be happy to escort you to the estate, if you like.”

Kyōraku smiled, “Ah, much obliged, dear boy, much obliged.”

Rather than make the captain wait, Renji leaped over the side of the wall to the ground. 

“Ho-ho! Very impressive!” Kyōraku called out flirtatiously, and then coming up take Renji’s arm like a lady, glanced down and noted, “Are you growing your hair out, Mr. Renji?”

“Uh, kinda,” Renji admitted. It hadn’t been intentional, but it did seem to be getting shaggier. In fact, Renji had noticed that his hair was getting too thick for his regular ties. They kept drooping, pulling his topknot down into a ponytail. He reached up and tightened the bit of silk, only to have it snap in two. “Fuck!” he snarled as his hair spilled out over his face, pushing down his bandana “How the hell did that happen? Silk is supposed to be strong!”

“Seems you’re going to need something more sturdy. You don’t happen to know any blacksmiths do you?”

Oddly enough, Renji did. “Yeah, actually. This guy who used to run a izakaya near the Eleventh, his daughter is a blacksmith. You think she could make me a hair clip?”

“You’re going to need something!” Kyōraku smiled, adjusting his hat so that most of his face was shrouded in shadow. Renji could still see his smirk, however. “Though, there do seem to be a lot of fans of the hair down thing.”

Renji noticed that his hair was causing a bit of a stir. At least one woman walked straight into a wall, she was staring at him so hard. Frantically, Renji turned out all his pockets looking for a bit of lint long enough to tie his hair back. Glancing covetously at Kyōraku’s hairpins, Renji asked, “I don’t suppose you have anything?”

Kyōraku chuckled. “Only my obi. If I loaned you that, it would cause a much bigger stir, let me tell you.”

The thought of obi made Renji looked down at his bandana and realize: d’uh. Using his teeth he tore a notch into the edge and then proceeded to rip off a long strip. In a second, he mostly had his hair back up, especially since the black fabric Ukitake had picked was much longer and so he was able to wind it around a few more times. 

“Ah, such a shame,” Kyōraku sighed. “You cut a rather rugged figure with your wild mane.”

Renji gave a little scowling smile. “Yeah, but I can’t see for shit.”

Kyōraku let out a belly laugh and slapped Renji on the back jovially. “Such a shame, my boy! Such a shame!’

The obvious flirt made Renji unthinkingly blurt out, “Oh, yeah, hey, are you and Captain Ukitake good? I mean, I heard… uh, that is, Byakuya said that you and he… uh, drunk…. ah….” Renji stopped because, the fuck was he saying? This was really not his business to stick his nose in. Dropping his gaze, Renji pretended his hair needed more adjusting.

This just made Kyōraku laugh harder. “Jūshirō and I have weathered much worse, Mr. Renji, much, much worse. In fact,” he chuckled, “It was a nice change to have him apologizing to me for bad behavior while under the influence.”

“Huh, yeah,” Renji nodded. They’d reached the gate to the estate grounds, and so Renji stopped. “I’ll leave you here, sir, but… uh, I just want to say that you should know that Byakuya is taking steps to finish this clan war peacefully. I mean, I think his family is just taking advantage of his house arrest and the inexperience of the hier--”

“My cousin,” Kyōraku said sharply. “Which is why I’m here.”

Kyōraku’s tone was grave, so all Renji could do was bow smartly and say, “Yes, sir” while thinking: _oh shit, Byakuya, good fucking luck--this thing just got personal._

#

Byakuya was dressed semi-formally. It was the same attire he would wear tonight, minus a few of the more ostentatious bits of Kuchiki clan regalia. As it was, he wore three layers of silk, all of them various shades of the deepest Kuchiki blue, except the innermost, which was a shimmering silver that added just the barest hint of glimmer. His family’s crest was prominently embroidered in silver thread on both sleeves and across the expanse of the back.

Everything was stiff and uncomfortable, even the hakama. 

He sat seiza on a mound of zabuton pillows on a small dais that had been set up in one of the lesser grand halls. It was not the war room, which he would the stage for tonight’s negotiations, but the cherry blossom room. It was, at least, a peaceful room, if a bit stuffy and airless, being one of the innermost rooms. The lanterns were lit now, which added to a sensation of being slightly too warm and uncomfortable.

Finally, Eishirō announced Captain Kyōraku’s arrival. 

Byakuya stood up. 

Kyōraku ducked through the door, a hand on his hat, as though delighted and curious to see a new place. “My, my,” he smiled, “I see I’m being treated to all the pomp and circumstance.”

Byakuya inclined his head. “This is meant to be a formal apology, Captain Kyōraku.” Which, Byakuya didn’t add aloud, was at Kyōraku’s insistence. Instead, he gestured to where Kyōraku could sit.

Or stand.

Byakuya hoped Kyōraku wouldn’t make things too awkward by remaining standing. He’d decided he’d like to bow, just a little, and doing that would be far harder if they remained standing. Standing was more formal than sitting, and…. Well, he was not here as Captain Kuchiki, a colleague of Kyōraku’s, but as Twenty-eighth Kuchiki clan head.

And the Kuchiki outranked the Kyōraku family astronomically.

Luckily, Kyōraku sat down naturally, folding almost bonelessly onto the floor. He crossed his legs tailor-fashion. Taking his hat off, he fanned his face with it. Kyōraku looked around the room with exaggerated interest. Not finding whatever he was looking for, he pronounced, “No sake?”

“It’s barely past noon,” Byakuya said dryly, as he settled seiza across from him.

Kyōraku laughed. “I believe the saying in the Human World is, ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere!’”

“Indeed,” Byakuya said with a small exasperated smile. “I’ll ring the servants.”

He got up to pull the hidden bell. Byakuya was a little uncertain about adding sake to this mix, especially since what he really wanted was to get everything over and done with as soon as possible. 

It was going to be tricky enough to navigate the line between what he could apologize for and what he could not.

But, Kyōraku was an honored guest. If he wanted sake, there would be sake.

Settling back down, Byakuya smoothed out his hakama in an effort to try to organize his thoughts at the same time. This would only be the second time in his long life that he had ever had to make any kind of formal apology. The previous apology had been at his grandfather’s insistence to Yoruichi over some slight he could no longer remember, something only his grandfather had been upset by, because Yoruichi herself had laughed and teased Byakuya through the whole affair. 

This, on the other hand, he could not afford to mess up.

When Byakuya glanced up, Kyōraku had a patient smile on his lips. Byakuya took that to mean he should began. “Captain Kyōraku, you have my apologies for not informing your Division of Kuchiki clan activity in the neighborhood under your aegis.”

Kyōraku made acknowledging, if dismissive noises. “Mmmm, mmm-hmm.”

And then his gray eyes stared directly at Byakuya, as if expecting me.

Byakuya stared back, silently. 

This was the limit of what he could say, really. Certainly, there was fault in the fire. To say anything about that, however, would belie ignorance of the cause of the whole conflagration, and, on top of that, basically throw Shinobu to the wolves. Which Byakuya would prefer to avoid for many reasons, not the least of which was that Shinobu would hear him.

Byakuya would never chose such a cowardly way out. 

This war was his responsibility and his alone. That was why he’d tried so hard to keep Renji at arm’s length. As usual, however, Renji had rushed in, filling a void Byakuya didn’t even realize had existed until he was suddenly there.

Kyōraku set his hat in his lap and said, “You’ll pay to rebuild the theater and any other reparations that the neighborhood wants, of course.”

Byakuya inclined his head, “Yes, of course.”

Taking in a big breath, Kyōraku said, “Well, that’s all fine, then. You must realize I didn’t really come here because I needed any of this,” he lifted a hand as though to indicate the room and Byakuya’s formal dress. “What I want to know is what the hell you’re playing at, Mr. Byakuya.”

A little startled by the patronizing tone, Byakuya had to take a moment to tamp down his initial flare of angry pride. “I’m not playing at anything, Captain Kyōraku. The clan war is serious business.”

“Oh? And what started this serious business? Did someone not pay their tithe?”

Byakuya couldn’t quite hold back a tightening of his brows. “This is not over something so petty as money, Captain. An attack was made on one of my Division soldiers while I was imprisoned. She was being held hostage and may have been used as leverage against the rest of my family. Luckily, that plot was thwarted by the quick thinking of my Third Seat and the arrival of a seated officer on the scene.”

Kyōraku looked like he might say something but was interrupted by a soft knock and the arrival of servants at the door. Aio slid open the door. “How may I serve you, my lord?”

“Sake, please, Aio--from the family store,” Byakuya said.

She bowed and left. 

“She’s a pretty one,” Kyōraku said with a waggle of eyebrows. Before Byakuya could respond one way or the other to that comment, he added, “And, so in compensation for a potential insult that your people actually managed to skillfully avoid, you burned down a theater?”

Byakuya opened his mouth, but then closed it. This was exactly the sort of thing he really shouldn’t engage in. Still, he felt he needed to at least explain, “Certainly, you understand that the fire was accidental.”

“I understand that your people interrupted a show in progress,” Kyōraku said, but then chuckled darkly. “You of all people should know that’s not a ‘done thing.’ You might as well go in and shout ‘fire.’”

“Yes,” Byakuya said gravely. “I take responsibility for that.”

“Even though you couldn’t have been there without violating the terms of your house arrest?” Kyōraku asked.

“Even though,” Byakuya agreed. “My commanders acted on my orders. Whatever the results of those actions, the responsibility is still mine.”

Kyōraku gave Byakuya a long, hard stare. “Your commanders? Or my cousin?”

Only years of training kept Byakuya from glancing in the direction of the hidden antechamber where Shinobu listened in. Byakuya was grateful, too, for the Human World sound proofing that silenced anything less than a full-blown shout. “Yes,” Byakuya said, “I deployed our heir, your cousin, to command this mission. The responsibility for last night’s actions, however, are entirely mine.”

“Yes,” Kyōraku said succinctly.

A tense moment passed. Byakuya could almost feel the effort Kyōraku spent controlling his reiatsu. There was no single wave or spike, but the tremendous ‘silence’ of his spiritual pressure spoke volumes.

Kyōraku likely knew he had no authority to order Byakuya to release Shinobu from his station. Even though there had not yet been an investiture, there were expectations and contracts that would not be easily broken. 

But…

Byakuya had another sudden thought. “Your family has interests in court, do they not?”

Startled by the sudden switch in topic, Kyōraku nodded cautiously. “Some… but our representation has been minor for over a millennium. I don’t see what this has to do with--”

“You should consider escorting your cousin to Spring Court. I’m sending him…. because I realize that I have been neglectful in my training. He’s seen violence before learning politics. This is, I believe we both agree, not how it should be. If you go, you will go as his ward. It would give Kyōraku House an increased standing.”

Kyōraku gaped open mouthed for several seconds. Then, he laughed, “You do remember I’m a captain of the Gotei, Mr. Byakuya! There is a whole division that I oversee--you’ve heard of it, perhaps, the Eighth?”

“Aizen is in Muken,” Byakuya said. ‘Moreover, I can’t think of a more capable and competent lieutenant besides my own than Nanao Ise. Spring Court is three months, and you wouldn’t have to stay for the whole time.”

“Please, cousin!” Shinobu stuck his head out from behind the wall to say. “Please say you’ll come!”

Byakuya barely resisted smacking his forehead with his open palm. So much for the hidden part of hidden room.

“Ho-ho, what’s this? A secret chamber! I love secret chambers!” Kyōraku laughed. Rising to his feet, he moved over to inspect the tiny cubby hole that appeared behind a wooden panel.

“Come see what I’ve done with the place, cousin,” Shinobu offered, sliding the door open further to reveal a cozy nest full of pillows and blankets. Having given in to his own curiosity and come to investigate as well, Byakuya noticed that Shinobu had procured a flashlight from somewhere--probably the Sixth Division’s infamous “haunted” storeroom, which had a stockpile of all number of Human World artifacts which had been deemed illegal and confiscated, back in the time of Byakuya’s grandfather, a strict traditionalist. Where Shinobu had found batteries to keep it operational, however, was another mystery.

Kyōraku knelt down beside the cubbyhole nest and sighed, “Ah, all you’re missing is a few snacks and comic books!”

“No, I’ve got those,” Shinobu admitted, pulling out a stack of some thick magazine with the word “jump” written in all-caps on the front, a packet of dried squid chips, and a bottle of something called a ‘lemune.’

Patting Shinobu’s curls, Kyōraku laughed genuinely. “You definitely share my blood. That looks like the kind of place I could spend all day in--alternately napping and reading.” Glancing out of the corner of his eye at Byakuya, Kyōraku sighed, “Three months with this young man would be my pleasure.”

Byakuya felt a huge wave of relief. “Thank you, Captain.”

“It’s a good compromise.” Kyōraku took the comic book that Shinobu offered and flipped through it. “Much better than anything old Ginrei would have offered. Hell, that old stick in the mud wouldn’t have given a single inch.”

“Thankfully, I am not him.”

Kyōraku nodded and added, “You’d better add one of these lemon soda pops to that order of sake and pull up a blanket.”

Byakuya nodded gravely, understanding immediately that his apology would be accepted and the deal sealed only if he consented to sitting on the floor sipping sake and reading comic books for an afternoon. “So long as I’m sober enough to negotiate this evening, so be it.”

Kyōraku laughed and thumped Byakuya on the back. “Good man!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank goodness I've been clear that is just one giant, meandering soap opera from the start, because... yeah. Anyway, sorry for the long wait for this installment. I swear I'm still writing, it's just been a fallow period for several reasons, most of them involving Real Life (tm).


End file.
